POV : Cars 4 a Better Future
Dennis Lamont was working hard. Trask might have started getting nervous—after all, his charity should have been pulling in just as much as usual, but the numbers weren’t quite adding up.
When Alan Trask brought it up to Dennis, he wasn’t overly concerned. Cars 4 a Better Future was just one of the many charities he was running for Lowell. A small hiccup here or there wasn’t enough to set off full-scale panic.
The trickle of funds into certain discretionary accounts seemed a little slower than expected, but nothing had outright stopped. It was an inconvenience, not a red flag—yet.
That’s where Dennis really shined.
He knew how to keep things just smooth enough to avoid suspicion. Every month, there were expectations. Certain people expected their payments on time, and others could be kept waiting just a little longer. Dennis’s job was to figure out who could be put on pause and who needed to be kept happy.
When some of the first emails started rolling in, Dennis handled them with the precision of a man who had spent years dancing on the edge of disaster.
Subject: Re: Disbursement Delay – URGENT
From: Charles L. Whitmore (Government Liaison, Discretionary Fund Recipient)
“Dennis, we still haven’t received this month’s allocation. Usually, these funds are in by the 5th, and as you know, we have expenses to cover. Has there been an issue on your end? Please advise.”
Dennis let that one sit for a bit. Whitmore was a politician—he’d push, but he wasn’t about to rock the boat if there was a plausible explanation.
Then came another.
Subject: Re: Invoice Overdue – Second Notice
From: Alicia St. James (Executive Director, Elite Consulting Group)
“Dennis, I’ve followed up twice now regarding the outstanding consulting fees. The contract stipulates timely payments, and my team has delivered everything required. If this remains unresolved, I’ll be forced to escalate the matter. Please confirm the payment schedule ASAP.”
Alicia ran one of those “consulting” firms that somehow always managed to invoice the charity six figures a month for vague “strategic services.” She’d whine, but she wouldn’t escalate—not if she thought she’d still get her cut.
Then came the one Dennis actually worried about.
Subject: Where’s My Money?
From: James “Jimmy” Vicelli (Private Security & Risk Management)
“Dennis, I don’t like waiting. You don’t want me to come knocking. Fix it.”
Jimmy didn’t send follow-up emails. He sent guys in suits with baseball bats.
But Dennis had a system.
He let the emails pile up for about two weeks—just long enough to make them nervous, but not long enough for them to do anything. Then, he started sending out payments in just the right order to keep people calm.
For Whitmore, he sent:
“Apologies for the delay, Charles. Increased regulatory oversight this month meant a longer processing time. You should see the full amount posted within three business days. Let me know if you need a temporary advance to hold things over.”
For Alicia, he wrote:
“Alicia, I appreciate your patience. The finance team flagged a minor discrepancy that we’re clearing up. Your full invoice will be settled by next week—consider it confirmed. Appreciate your discretion on this matter.”
And for Jimmy?
If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.
Dennis called Jimmy. Never put anything in writing with a guy like that.
“Yeah?” came the gruff voice on the other end.
“Jimmy, it’s Dennis. Got your message.”
“You got my money?”
“It’s coming. Bit of a hiccup in the pipeline, but you’re first in line. You’ll see a transfer hit tomorrow.”
A pause.
“You better not be bullshitting me, Dennis.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Dennis said smoothly. “Check your account in the morning.”
And just like that, another fire was put out.
The key players still got their expected cut, the right wheels were greased, and since the overall flow of money hadn’t changed too drastically, no major alarms were raised.
Whenever an account started really complaining, Dennis knew exactly how long to let them squirm before making the problem go away.
And that’s why Trask never quite figured it out. He had suspicions, but no hard proof. Every time he thought about pushing the issue, the numbers still looked right, and the payments—however slightly delayed—always arrived.
So while he had an uneasy feeling, he couldn’t quite put his finger on why.
And that was exactly what Maluck wanted.
***
POV : Calgary Slums
Jamal Williams was about to give up. He sat in his tiny apartment, staring at another round of rejection emails on his cracked phone screen while the neighbors screamed at each other through the paper-thin walls. His mom was at work, his little sister was trying to do homework with the Wi-Fi cutting in and out, and he was just… stuck.
He wanted to work. He needed to work. But how the hell was he supposed to get a job when all the decent ones were in industrial parks with bus service that barely existed?
That was the problem with living in a city like Calgary. It was big—really big—spread out in all directions, but the public transportation? Absolute garbage. Bus routes were slow, unreliable, and barely covered the areas where actual jobs were. If you missed one, you were waiting at least an hour for the next. Show up late to an interview, and that was it—no job, no second chances.
His cousin Darrell kept telling him to “stop wasting time” and get into the real money. Darrell had rolled up last week in a flashy car, grinning like he owned the world. But Jamal’s mom had taken one look at him and nearly smacked Jamal upside the head for even looking tempted.
‘Ain’t no son of mine gonna be a wannabe gangbanger’, she’d said, like she could already see the bad decisions brewing in his brain.
But at this point, what other options did he have?
And then, his phone rang.
Not a scam call. Not a recruiter ghosting him after the first interview.
It was Cars 4 a Better Future.
“Congratulations! You’ve been selected to receive a vehicle through our program. Please bring your ID to our lot to finalize the process.”
For a moment, he just sat there, staring at the screen, thinking it had to be a mistake.
‘Two years. That’s how long he’d been on the waitlist. Two years of trying, failing, trying again, all because he couldn’t get to the places that were hiring.
And now… he was getting a car? Just like that?{
He didn’t know it, but his name never would have come up if someone hadn’t fixed the charity.
Because before Maluck took over, Cars 4 a Better Future barely worked. The idea was solid—help low-income people get cars so they could actually build a future. But with only 10% of the money reaching real people, the program was a joke. The waitlist was massive, and most people would be waiting years before their number ever came up.
But now?
Now the money was actually doing what it was supposed to.
Now people were actually getting cars.
Now Jamal Williams had a chance.
He grabbed his ID, practically ran out the door, and headed to the lot.
Today, his life was about to change.
***
Jamal Williams sat on the bus, staring out the window at the passing streets, thinking about how the hell he ended up here.
Not just here as in this bus, heading to Cars 4 a Better Future. But here as in a man with five kids, three exes, and a life so unpredictable even he had trouble keeping track.
The bus rattled as it hit a pothole, jostling him from his thoughts.
’Man, this public transit is garbage.’
He adjusted his seat, instinctively patting his pockets—not to check for his wallet, but to make sure he still had that favor list folded up in there.
Because that’s how he survived.
Jamal didn’t have a traditional job. Never really did. But what he did have was connections. A lot of them.
Need a new phone cheap? He knew a guy. Trying to get into an exclusive club? He knew a guy. Want to get rid of a car real fast? …Well, yeah, he definitely knew a guy for that.
And yet, despite all his skills, he was broke.
Not because he was bad with money—nah, he was great with money. He could stretch a twenty into a whole weekend if needed. But between his kids, child support, and needing to occasionally disappear for a few days to avoid unnecessary conversations, well…
Broke was a way of life.
That’s why this car thing? A game-changer.
He’d been on the waitlist for way too long.
He wasn’t even supposed to be next, but some miracle happened, and they called him up. Said he could finally come pick up a car.
He didn’t question it.
A car meant no more waiting on late-ass buses to get to poker games or odd jobs. No more having to explain why he was late dropping Ava off at school. No more bartering with QuickieCab drivers when his card “mysteriously” declined.
‘Man, this is huge.’
His phone buzzed.
He pulled it out and checked the text.
Jada’s Mom: U pickin’ her up this wknd or nah?
Jamal sighed. Another pothole rattled the bus.
He started typing out a response but stopped. He needed to see what kind of car he was getting first.
If it was good? Yeah, sure, weekend plans were on.
If it was trash? He was suddenly gonna be real busy.
The bus slowed down.
The Cars 4 a Better Future lot came into view.
Jamal leaned forward, eyes scanning the parked cars, already trying to get a read on the situation.
‘Alright, let’s see what kind of magic I’m working with today…’
******
Would you read Towerbound?
